Mike Barrett. Such an ordinary name. Mike. Michael? ‘How old was he?’ Stupidly, it was the first thing that came into my head.
‘Forty-two.’
So young. I lowered the window, taking tiny sips of air that smelt like petrol. ‘Where did he live?’
‘Not that far from where you’re going, actually.’
Vic had put the handbrake on. I felt his eyes burning into me, knew they’d be full of questions, but all I could see was the name Mike Barrett as though it was written in front of me in flashing lights.
‘He was local?’
‘Not exactly.’ Rosa sounded to be tapping a keyboard. ‘From London, originally,’ she said. ‘He married a Cornish woman, a few years younger than him.’
Mike Barrett. A flesh and blood man with a family, just as I’d always suspected. He had a wife, who’d mourned him for twenty-six years.
‘Children?’ My voice was so low, Rosa didn’t hear. She was saying something else and I had to ask her to repeat it.
‘I’m trying to find her, to ask if she’ll speak to you while you’re down there.’
My throat was so tight with emotion now it was an effort to push any words out. ‘This is more than I was expecting,’ I managed. ‘I … I don’t know what to say.’ A thousand questions flooded my mind. I didn’t know where to start.
‘You don’t have to say anything.’ Rosa sounded cautiously pleased. ‘I’m glad I could help.’
‘I need to find out where he’s buried.’ Beside me, Vic went still. ‘Maybe his wife will tell me that, if she agrees to talk to me.’
‘Beth, don’t forget, if what’s been happening at home is linked in some way, meeting her in person might not be a great idea.’
That’s what we’d been told all those years ago. Better not to stir things up; leave well alone; give them their privacy. Maybe if we’d met when it happened there would have been some closure on both sides.
‘I’m happy to talk to her on the phone,’ I lied. Somehow, I’d have to persuade her to meet me. In therapy training, I’d learnt all about restorative justice; how face-to-face meetings between victims and offenders helped to facilitate forgiveness. Our situation was different, but I had a feeling we’d both benefit from looking each other in the eye. ‘Will you let me know as soon as you find her?’
‘As long as you promise not to rush into anything,’ Rosa said sternly. ‘Talk it through with someone first.’
‘I will.’
If she guessed it wasn’t a proper promise, she didn’t comment. ‘I’ll contact the local police and someone will be in touch.’
‘Thanks again, Rosa.’ I swallowed. ‘This means a lot to me.’ In the background, someone called her name.
‘Sorry, Beth, I have to go,’ she said. ‘Take care.’
I ended the call and dropped my phone in my lap. Nothing had changed. Traffic was still at a standstill, sun shimmering off the river of tarmac in front of us, the sky above intensely blue, but I felt as if a seismic change had happened.
‘Are you going to tell me what that was all about?’
Vic’s voice was an intrusion. My feelings had been scrambled and I needed to gather them together, arrange them logically.
Mike Barrett. The man who’d died so I could live. If I could talk to his wife, tell her how sorry I was, if I could see she’d found happiness again – even visit his grave and say thank you … maybe, finally, I’d be able to lay down my guilt.
‘Beth?’
A gulping laugh escaped my throat. ‘Rosa gave me the name of the man who drowned,’ I said. ‘He was called Mike Barrett.’
‘Beth, that’s … God, that’s huge.’ Vic was looking ahead, fingers drumming the steering wheel. For a second his profile looked carved and remote. ‘How do you feel?’ he said, his eyes returning to mine.
‘I … I don’t know.’
‘What was all that about a footprint?’ He released the handbrake as the traffic started moving, picking up speed.
‘Oh, that … I thought someone had been in my studio at Mum and Dad’s,’ I said. ‘Rosa was going to check it out.’
‘How come you didn’t say anything?’
‘I forgot.’ He was more concerned about that? ‘Vic, Rosa said she’s trying to get hold of Mike’s wife.’ I sounded dazed. ‘He was married.’
The car swerved suddenly. ‘Sorry.’ Vic took his foot off the accelerator. ‘She must have moved on since then though, surely?’
‘I hope so,’ I said fervently. ‘But don’t you see?’ I swivelled to look at him properly. ‘I could talk to her, Vic. Say my piece, tell her I’m sorry for her loss.’ I gripped his forearm, warm beneath my fingers. ‘I’ve waited so long for this.’
He tossed me a glance. ‘I know you have, Beth, and it’s great but …’
My hand fell back to my lap. ‘But, what?’
‘What if everything that’s happened is linked?’ He sounded like Rosa now. ‘What if he had children like we said, and one of them has traced you, been targeting you?’
I thought again of Jamie. ‘I don’t think it is that, Vic, but even if it is,’ I rushed on as he started to speak, ‘then there’s even more reason to talk to his wife – his widow. Don’t you think?’
‘I don’t know, Beth.’ His expression was concentrated, but I had the feeling he wasn’t seeing the road ahead. ‘I think you need to tread carefully.’ Another quick look. ‘What else did Rosa say?’
I told him she’d offered to contact the local police.
‘I’m not sure that’s necessary.’ I noticed a whitening of the skin on his knuckles. ‘Not while you’re with me.’
Despite warm air sweeping through the open window, a chill brushed over my skin. ‘It’s just a precaution,’ I said, echoing Rosa’s words.
‘I suppose I just wanted us to enjoy a few days away on our own, without all this hanging over us. Get you used to being by the sea again.’ Vic shook his head, as if clearing his thoughts. ‘I’m sorry.’ His lips pressed into a smile. ‘I’m being selfish, but it really matters to me.’
‘It matters to me too.’ I made my voice conciliatory. ‘And we will have a nice time, but this is a big deal to me, Vic.’
‘I know it is, of course I do.’ He pulled into the fast lane, overtaking a row of cars, a lorry, a coach, as if making up for lost time. ‘But maybe we could put it aside until we get home. Try and beat one demon at a time?’ He was trying to make light of it, saying demon in a dramatic voice, but my laughter sounded forced.
‘Maybe,’ I said.
His smiled widened. ‘This is just the beginning.’ His gaze flicked in my direction again. ‘Things are going to be different, Beth, you’ll see.’
I bit the soft inside of my cheek and allowed myself to breathe a little easier. Reminded myself that Vic had my best interests at heart.
He put the radio on, tuned into Classic FM. ‘This OK?’ he said, as the presenter announced a Bach symphony in G major.
I nodded, settling back as the powerful music filled the car. It was a fitting backdrop somehow, as I replayed my conversation with Rosa and let my eyes drift closed, pretending to sleep so I didn’t have to talk anymore.
As we drew closer to our destination it felt oddly like travelling back in time, to Jamie and me in the back of the car playing number plate bingo, while Mum and Dad chatted in the front, occasionally singing along to Radio 1, all of us dipping into a big bag of pick’n’mix sweets. We’d been so looking forward to that holiday, the four of us, the atmosphere party-like. We’d had no idea our time would be cut dramatically short and our lives – my life – would change. Today, I had the sense of things coming to a head; that coming back to where it all began – and ended for Mike Barrett – was meant to be. Maybe I really would overcome my fear of the sea.
Maybe I’d even live to tell the tale.